“Sure.”
Wepizi poked him. “Sure, sir.”
“Yes, sir. I have to call you that out here?”
“Oh yes. Even in the latrine, my friend,” Wepizi said solemnly, which made Nuveize smile. “Maybe you should get Nuveize home, and return with Giwade’s clothes. Giwade, you stick with me and I’ll find you a corner you can hide in.”
“With a bed?”
“Well...a bedroll. But a comfortable one, I promise.”
The boy nodded. “All right. I hope you can help Juimei. It’s not good for him.”
“No, it’s not.”
Giwade was an unusual child and not just because of his Blessing. In many ways, he was far more mature than Jozin, seven years older. He wondered what Juimei’s fractured soul felt like to the boy, and then was very glad he would never actually know. If it caused anything like the pain it gave the prince himself, it wasn’t something he wanted to experience first hand.
Jozin helped Nuveize to her feet. “Back soon,” he said.
“Be good for Wepizi, Giw,” Nuveize said.
Giwade waved to them as they rose silently into the air. A few of the other people on the bank pointed and ahh’ed, but there was surprisingly little reaction. The Blessed were now everyday miracles for the people of this town.
Giwade sat quietly next to him for a while, watching the other children splash and leap about in the creek. Wepizi had things he ought to be doing, but after such a tumultuous day, with so many things to think about, it was good to just sit.
“Are you happy, Giwade?” he murmured. “Do you wish you were back in the mountains?”
“No. I like it here. Joz and Iome and Hel are so happy, and I like feeling that. I like you,” he said, glancing up as if he was afraid of causing offence. “You feel nice to be near. Peaceful.”
“Thank you, son—that’s kind of you to say.” He climbed to his feet. “Come on, let’s see if I can find you that bedroll. You can be a soldier for a few days, see how you like it. But you have to call me ‘sir’.”
“Yes, even in the latrine. I remember.”
Wepizi laughed and ruffled the lad’s dark hair. “That’s it. Come on.”
Home Ground: 26
“Are you sure you can manage on your own? One day up here won’t....”
Juimei held up his hand. “No. One day will. We have to try and be reliable, Neime.”
His page winced a little, though it hadn’t been any kind of oblique reference to his behaviour. The lad was walking on eggshells right now, though Juimei tried not to press the issue at all. It was still to be concluded—he would have arranged the swearing of the statement yesterday, but he’d been felled by yet another sick headache and had had to spend the day in bed, the windows darkened. Still feeling fragile, he didn’t want to raise the topic just now, and certainly didn’t want Neime attending him with his mournful eyes and apologies at the ready. He forgave the lad, but there was more to it than that. Their friendship needed mending. He didn’t feel strong enough to begin that process yet.
“You’ll ask Nuveize to fetch me if you need me, right?”
“Yes, yes. Neime, go do your job. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Every word, everything they said, felt laden with double meanings. His intention to resign was a huge thing lying between them, potent and menacing, but as yet, not overtly mentioned, and certainly not discussed. Not today, he thought wearily. He couldn’t face any more upset today.
Finally he persuaded Neime to leave, called for a pot of ordinary tea, and settled down to read the less contentious parts of his correspondence. Siliki’s wife was expecting again, Lekwinu reported. His older sister-in-law was one of his closer friends, and kept him up to date with the gossip that wouldn’t pain him. She never sullied her letters with mention of Miki and his hateful bride, or their latest machinations. He got that information from his brothers, or his mother.
His father, being king, had to be above all that, but his father wasn’t one for gossip anyway. Not that Juimei was either, but he could hardly be picky about what people wrote to him, not when there were so few who could be bothered keeping up the acquaintance at all. It wasn’t that he was disliked, so much as he wasn’t there. His old ito teammates, the courtiers, all of them were busy people and had lives to get on with. Doubtless they wondered from time to time how he got on. He really was rather glad they would be unlikely to find out.
He hadn’t the patience for official reports and letters today. Instead he found a paper Furneim had sent on some possible new grain crops surprisingly soothing—translated from the Darshianese, apparently. Perhaps when he gave up this job, he would spend some time polishing his reading skills in that language. The Darshianese had some remarkable thinkers in their country.
Immersed in technical data, he had no sense of passing time, and when a knock came at the door, he couldn’t have said if he’d been reading for ten minutes or an hour. “Come in?”
The door opened. Wepizi, smiling widely, looking clean and brushed, his moustache in terrifyingly perfect state. “Good morning, your highness. I hope you’re feeling better.”
“Yes, thank you. I don’t recall asking you to attend. Did I?” Lately he often lost track of things.
“Not exactly, Juimei, though this was something we’d agreed I should supply.” He drew an envelope out of his shirt pocket and laid it in front of him. “My admission of dereliction, all signed and witnessed by lep Tovoi and one of the jirens. I hope it’s enough.”
Juimei pushed it aside—he couldn’t bear to read it just now. “I’m sure it will be perfectly correct. There was no hurry, you know. Neime...hasn’t attended to his.”
“No, I know. I wanted to come up anyway, so it was convenient.”
Juimei smiled politely, though he was now confused. “So what did you want?”
Wepizi stroked his moustache and grinned. “Ah, well...how would you like to get out of this stuffy office for a day, and come for a ride along the river?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He blinked up at the man, who only smiled more broadly. “I’ve declared a holiday for my people—everyone’s been working non-stop for months, and they need a rest. We’re well ahead, the weather is fine, it’s nearly high summer, and I thought you might like to see the work Jozin’s been doing on the bridge.”
“I don’t....”
“Have time? Surely one day won’t hurt.”
“I lost a whole day yesterday.”
Wepizi’s smile dimmed a little. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry. But it makes it even more important that you get some fresh air and a little gentle exercise. I’ve got a docile doig for you to ride, though we could take the trap if you prefer.”
“Wepizi...I can’t just....”
“Why not?”
“Because...I don’t do that kind of thing.”
“Yes. Which is a shame, really. Your cook’s prepared a picnic for us, and the doigs are saddled and ready to go. And it’s a beautiful day,” he said, wheedling a little.
Juimei was simply too surprised to muster any annoyance. “What if I fall off the doig?”
“You won’t. And if you get tired, Jozin can come fetch you. You’ll be safe. I’ll look after you. Please?”
Juimei sighed helplessly. It sounded ridiculous—but at the same time...he hadn’t left the residence in months. If he tried it and it was a disaster, at least he’d have proved it was a pointless exercise. “All right. If I fall off, you’re bloody well carrying me back.”
Wepizi bowed deeply, still grinning. “Of course.”
He’d wondered how many people were involved in this conspiracy. He got an inkling as he came out of his office and found Gimoz, the cook and his housekeeper all lined up with hopeful expressions.
“Don’t you people have anything better to do?” he growled.
“No, your highness. Your comfort and well-being is the most important thing,” Gimoz said, smiling at Wepizi with approval.
&nb
sp; “Nonsense,” Juimei said huffily, secretly warmed by this loyalty. “You should be looking after our guests.”
“All attended to, your highness. Now, your highness, tezrei, Cook’s prepared a hamper for your saddlebags, and there’s a rug and a folding stool if you want it. Tezrei, do you think you’ll need anything else?”
“Good grief, Gimoz,” Juimei said. “It’s a short excursion on doigs. We’re not camping out. We’re not camping out,” he added firmly to Wepizi.
“Of course not,” the man agreed with a serene smile. “We’ll just have lunch by the river and inspect the bridge. You’ll be back before supper.”
“I do have work to do, you know.”
Wepizi bowed again. “Proper rest and recreation makes a person more productive, your highness. We teach all our soldiers that.”
Juimei harrumphed. He was being bullied quite shamelessly. Simply should not be allowed. He would complain about it...later.
For form’s sake, he made one more attempt to stop this nonsense as they walked out into the stable yard. “Are you sure you can let your people have a whole day off? There’s so much to be done.”
“Yes, quite sure. Actually, our new arrivals from Tsikiugui are still working, but the ones who were here at the time of the quake badly need a rest. I’ll call another rest day in a week or so. People get stale. They need time to attend to their private affairs and relax. No one could accuse them of slackness.”
“I never meant to. Very well. If it’s a failure, we’ll know who to blame.”
Juimei did wonder why Wepizi was singling him out for this attention. Misplaced guilt, perhaps. An apology for his behaviour months before? Who knew? As for why he himself was playing along with this, he had no idea. Most of it was an unwillingness to have another argument with someone, and not to revive hostilities with this man when he’d only just managed to expunge the last cause of dissent. He wasn’t up to examining his motives more closely than that. He felt rather detached over everything right now—an after-effect of his illness, he suspected. It kept him from being more irritated than he might be at his routine being turned upside down.
They came out from the shadow of the house, and he blinked at the bright sunshine. He hadn’t appreciated that the summer had really started, and part of him chided himself for wasting the good weather. Any Andonese knew not to take a nice warm day for granted. It was almost certainly time he got out and enjoyed a little of the season.
The brief spurt of enthusiasm died and his heart quailed a little as the doigs were led around to them. He hadn’t ridden in months, then only for the briefest time, and he wasn’t at his physical best by any means. Still, he concealed his concern and tried to mount on his own. He didn’t succeed.
“Oh,” he murmured, stepping back down with a jolt. He had to hang on to the pommel while his vision cleared.
Instantly, Wepizi’s hand was under his arm, steadying him. “Your highness?”
“Just a little dizzy. It’s been a while.”
“Take it slowly. Allow me.” Wepizi’s strong hands boosted him up, and kept hold of him until he was safely in the saddle. Once seated, he was fine—and he appreciated the man hadn’t suggested they not do this, or made more of a fuss. “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes. Mount up, then.”
Wepizi’s animal had the saddlebags and blanket, but they were travelling light—and, it seemed, on their own. It seemed odd not to have Neime at his side, and he felt a little clench of sorrow at the idea that he might have to get used to that.
No. Don’t think about that, he told himself. Just think about not falling off, and enjoying this mad scheme for now. For Wepizi was right—it was a beautiful day. Warm, dry, the scent of flowers and hay in the air, and, as they rode up the street towards the north gate, the smell of cooking, bread making, the sounds of workshops busy and productive. In the distance, one of the mill wheels groaned. Dizeindo was coming back to life. The quake had not killed it. Wounded it badly, yes. But it was coming back.
Even though they were spending a day at liberty, Juimei still took the chance to see how the town had changed since he’d last emerged from his bolthole. This end of town had been the least affected, since it had some of the older and grander buildings, but even here he could see repairs had been done, and at least one house was entirely new. “Do you really think we’ll have homes for everyone before winter?” A decision about sending people south would have to be made soon. He’d been delaying, hoping the intervention of the Blessed and the new troops might tip the balance.
Wepizi stroked his moustache thoughtfully. “I think we just might, if we send half the detachment back to Nedriz. Some of the soldiers might have to sleep in tents, but that’s no great surprise. It’s not as hard on them as proper camping, and I can rotate people so no one suffers too much.”
“If the winter’s particularly harsh, I’ll have no compunction about turning the mayor’s cloth out of doors again. I had a very snotty note from him a day or so ago. I’m not in a generous mood.”
Wepizi laughed. “Strange how he incites that kind of thing. I think we can manage and spare his honour’s goods. It’s not just him who’d suffer.”
Wepizi was saluted by the gatekeepers, who then snapped to attention when they realised who his companion was. Juimei returned their bows with a nod.
“Surprised they recognise me,” he murmured. “I’ve never been through these gates.”
“Never? Now that’s a shame, because there’s some very pretty country northwards. Some good fishing too, so I’m told. Do you like to fish?”
“Never really tried. It’s not easy to do in Visiqe. I liked to hunt—”
His mouth snapped shut. He didn’t want to talk about things he couldn’t do any more.
Wepizi kindly ignored his lapse. “Fishing’s a fine thing to do. Requires no real fitness, and encourages a peaceful attitude. Maybe we should get the mayor to try it.”
“Huh. The man would hire someone to net out the river and sell the catch to the highest bidder. I swear that man loves money more than he loves his children.”
“Sadly, I suspect it’s true,” Wepizi said with a little chuckle. “Ah well, then the art of fishing is probably wasted on him. You should try it though. Before the weather turns cold.”
Juimei shrugged. He couldn’t see it happening. Wepizi was being polite—not that polite company didn’t have its charms, especially after so long a period of tension. He couldn’t have imagined doing this even a week ago, and for that alone, he was grateful for Wepizi’s honourable solution.
His doig was a placid beast, and they hardly put either animal through its paces, ambling along the river road towards the bridge five miles north of them. This part of the river had no traffic since it wasn’t really navigable above Dizeindo because of the shifting water levels. The town elders wanted a system of locks built in this reach as there were below the town, and there was a strong argument for it, with the farms and the mines who could send their goods direct to Nedriz if the river was usable. It would cut days off the journey, and enable far greater loads to be moved at one time—if the region was to expand as his father and brother hoped, then the river traffic would become even more important. He’d thought it impossible before, but now, with the help of the Blessed, the project could happen as early as the spring. The architect and the army engineers were most excited about the possibilities.
“We need to be careful,” he muttered.
“Juimei?”
“I was just thinking...we need not to get too dependent on our new friends’ talents. Not start something we can’t finish ourselves. Just in case.”
“Quite true,” Wepizi agreed. “It’s a temptation to let them do it all, but not only is it a lazy way to do things, it also means we can lose skills.”
“So long as you’re aware of the danger, I can trust you to manage it. Uh...thank you for arranging matters for Giwade. I felt very bad for his situation. I just...didn’t feel up to changi
ng things.”
“I understand,” Wepizi said, flashing him a look of sympathy. “He felt bad about it being necessary. He hopes, as do I, that it’s only a temporary measure, because he likes living at the residence.”
“He can live where he likes. The boy’s quiet and polite—he’d find a welcome in many homes.”
“Yes, but he likes the residence. His friends are there, and you’re there. He likes you.”
“Me?” Juimei looked at his companion in utter surprise. “I upset him.”
“Well, yes. But he told me about the books you gave him, and the lessons on Andonese history. He enjoyed those a lot.”
“Oh.” Juimei had only offered those more or less out of desperation, not really knowing what else to do to entertain the child. “He’s welcome to return, of course. I’ll have to find a permanent solution to their accommodation. I was thinking of a house for them all.”
“Yes, that might be the thing. But there’s no rush. They’ll be here for a long time and they’ve endured much worse conditions. All that matters is that they’re safe.”
“I’d very much like to see that mountain home of theirs,” Juimei said, looking towards that mighty range in the distance. “Amazing it was here all this time and no one knew about it. Nuveize’s powers terrify me more than Kilinze’s fireballs.”
“Potentially, yes. They could be very destructive. But because they’re good people, and are being treated with kindness, they’re responding to that. We have no need to fear unless we threaten them.”
“It’s what happens if we do, that worries me.”
Wepizi smiled. “Let’s not dwell on dark subjects on such a lovely day. How are you finding the riding?”
“Fine, fine.” It was astonishingly comfortable and easy, in fact, being back in the saddle. He had missed it very much. “Part of me thinks this would make a fine place to race. Funny how the desires last well past the ability to fulfil them.”
“I know what you mean. I’m thirty-eight. If I were to start doig-racing again at my age, I’d probably break every bone in my body. But you’re right—this would make a wonderful place to do that.”
Home Ground (Darshian Tales #4) Page 58